


The Last Days

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, Futurefic, M/M, hurt-comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-25
Updated: 2003-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-01 06:49:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/353346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex is dying, and Clark simply can't accept it.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Days

## The Last Days

by Lux

[]()

* * *

Feedback: yes, please! This is my first SV fanfic and my first story in english. So, let me know your opinion. 

Thanks to Jenna for beta reading, contagius enthusiasm and heart-warming comments. 

This is for E.  
I'll never forget you.  
You didn't become an angel: you've always been. Too beautiful for this tainted, imperfect world. 

* * *

When it happened, Clark wasn't with him. He was on patrol. A very profitable one, really. He had delivered a band of bank robbers to justice. So, he was very pleased with himself when he got back to Lex's penthouse, that night. 

"Lex!" he called out. "Hey, I'm back." 

Silence. He was a bit surprised. Generally, Lex was at home earlier than him. Probably a board meeting running long, he guessed. 

Clark reached the kitchen island, opened the fridge and got a sandwich. Took the remote and turn on the TV to hear the latest news on Superman. No vanity, he told himself. Just checking up the competitors. After all, he worked as a cub reporter for the Daily Planet. And the Man of Steel was his pice de rsistance. 

While waiting for the news, he dialed Lex's office. Voicemail. Great. He decided to try Lex's cell number. The phone rang in the bedroom. He held his breath. A chilling sensation went through his spine. Wait, he told himself. He probably came home and then went out again, leaving his cell phone here. He knew it didn't make sense the very moment he thought it. 

He rushed into the bedroom. It was empty, but the light was on in the bathroom. The ring came out of there. He moved cautiously, like a kid scared by the dark. His heart missed a beat. Lex was there, sprawled on the floor, his sleek, silver cell phone lying near his hand, as if he'd tried to call for help. Clark reached him, shifting him onto his back. He was pale. So pale. Ashen. Clark focused his x-ray vision on his chest. His heart was beating. Slowly, very slowly. But beating. He closed his eyes, relieved, then he grabbed the cell phone to dial the emergency number. He stopped dead, hands shaking. He couldn't wait. He didn't know how long Lex had been there like this. It could already be too late. He turned into Superman again, lifted him in his arms and flew out of the window. 

In a few seconds they were at the hospital. He delivered Lex to the doctors, flew away and materialized some minutes later as Clark Kent. He didn't even have to feign breathlessness. He was a mess, and he knew he looked horrible. A nurse sent him to the waiting-room. He phoned his mother. She sounded worried and promised to come at once. 

When she arrived, he was still waiting there. She hugged him. His father wasn't with her, of course. He had never really liked Lex, and the situation hadn't improved when Clark had moved in with him four months ago, just after graduation. He wasn't going to accept their relationship, and blamed it on Lex. He wouldn't listen when Clark tried to explain that it had been his choice, as well as Lex's. Indeed, a good part of the responsibility was Clark's. After all, he had kissed Lex first. But this he hadn't told his father. He didn't dare. 

"How is he?" Martha asked. 

"I don't know. They won't say anything." 

But it was taking a lot of time. This was never a good sign. They sat down. 

"Your father was busy at the farm," she said, as if to justify his absence. 

Clark nodded, pretending he understood. 

A doctor came to say the patient was awake and well enough to see them, but he didn't answer their questions, hiding behind a generic "It's too early to tell. We're conducting some tests. " 

"Are you going to keep him hospitalized?" Clark asked, anxious. 

"Yes. We believe it's necessary. We can't do everything tonight, and we want to keep him under observation." 

Clark didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. 

Lex looked better, though. He was lying on the bed, hooked up to an IV drip, but his color was coming back. When he saw Clark's troubled face, he even tried to cheer him up. 

"Come on, Clark. Don't worry. You know I tend to be theatrical, sometimes. I was trying to draw your attention. It's just a flu. Tell him, Martha." 

"Sure, the doctors will take good care of him," she said, condescendingly. 

"They'd better. LuthorCorp practically owns this hospital." 

Lex had always been a good actor, really. But something in his light blue eyes betrayed him. Hesitation. A glint of concern. 

"What happened?" Martha asked. 

"I don't know. I was well, and all of a sudden I felt strange. I realized I was going to faint. I grabbed the cell phone... and then I blacked-out." 

"You're going to be staying here," Clark informed him. 

"I know." 

"How are you feeling, now?" 

Lex smiled. His usual ironic smile. Clark was really glad to see it. 

"Like a man who's just lost memory of the last hours of his life and is going to waste another day or two in a hospital. Since time, especially mine, is money, I don't feel very happy right now. Thanks for asking, though." 

"I see you're yourself again," Clark said, comforted. 

An orderly came in to take Lex. 

"It's time," he said. 

"I must undergo some tests," Lex explained. "The first of a long series, I fear. Will I find you here when I come back?" 

There was expectation in his eyes, although he tried to sound casual. Clark smiled. "Of course." 

"Martha, you could stay over at the penthouse," Lex offered. 

She smiled. "Don't worry. We'll manage." 

When Lex was out of sight, Clark allowed himself to look flustered again. His mother laid a hand on his arm and squeezed it. She hadn't been fooled for one second. Clark hoped it had worked better with Lex. 

"It isn't your fault," she said. "It probably wouldn't have made any difference if you had come home early." 

"Probably. Yeah." He felt a constriction in his chest. "That's the point." 

* * *

Lex didn't loose his spirit and sharp sense of humor during the series of tests that he, as expected, had to undergo the following days. He drove the nurses mad and managed to become their favorite patient at the same time. When he went into flirting mode he could make them do anything. Amused, Clark attended his impromtu "Conquest and Rule" lectures, trying to push his sad thoughts away. But it got more and more difficult, as tests followed one upon the other, and doctors became more and more evasive. 

Later on, Clark found himself looking back with regret on those moments of ignorance and worry. Because what came next was worse. 

Clark would never forget the grim expression on the doctor's face. The silence falling upon them after his words. His silence. Lex's silence. So unlike him. It was the heart, the doctor informed them. He uttered the medical term. Clark had already heard it. From Lex's mouth. About his mother. The same. The desease. That killed. Lillian Luthor. 

Clark's mouth went dry. He curled his hand around Lex's. But his was still, frozen. Clark searched Lex's eyes. But he didn't look up at him. Instead, a cold grin twisted across Lex's face. 

"Well, that's it," he said, matter-of-factly. "I had my suspicions." 

He sat up in his hospital bed, all business-like, and calmly discussed with the doctor about therapies and their rates of success. He'd be treated with medication and put on the list for a heart transplant. The bigger problem was compatibility, because of Lex's blood, but Luthor laboratories could probably fix him up with the appropriate anti-rejection therapy. Luckily, the intervention wasn't urgently needed. At the moment Lex's sore heart seemed to hold out well enough. 

Throughout the discussion Clark stood beside Lex's bed, dazed, almost paralyzed. When the doctor left them alone, their eyes finally met. 

"What are you doing?" Clark asked, trying not to sound accusatory. 

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm confronting the problem the best way I know." 

His voice was firm, but Clark realized his face was tense and pale, almost as it was when he found him unconscious on the bathroom floor. His stomach tightened. He let out the shaky breath he had been holding. 

"I'm here with you, Lex," he murmured, stroking Lex's hand. 

This time Lex responded, curling their fingers together. 

"Did you suspect about the... problem from the beginning?" 

"It was inevitable, Clark. The heart-disease my mother died of is hereditary." 

"Why didn't you tell me about your suspicions?" 

"I didn't want you to worry." 

"I was already worried," he protested. 

"I'm sorry, Clark. But I was sure... I really hoped...You know I heal fast and I haven't gotten sick since the meteor shower. I think I hoped that ability would protect me, somehow. I hoped to recover quickly. I'm afraid I didn't tell you because I fooled myself." 

Clark swallowed the lump in his throat. "Medicine has made some progress. You heard the doctor. He didn't sound disheartened." 

"Nor overflowing with confidence." 

Clark ran his fingers over Lex's cheek, comfortingly. 

"The effects of the meteors must be waning," Lex said, thoughtfully. "Or they just delayed the onset of the illness." 

"Always searching for explanations," Clark smiled. 

"There isn't much more I can do, at the moment," Lex replied, on the defensive. 

"It's all right, Lex," Clark said, softly, caressing his arm. "Everything's going to be okay as long as we stick together." 

Lex nodded and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, trying to relax. Clark sat on the bed next to him and enveloped his slender body in a tight hug, pressing his cheek against Lex's smooth bald head, rocking him gently, whispering soft, encouraging words into his ear for two, three, ten minutes, more... He couldn't say. He had lost track of time. 

* * *

The following day Jonathan Kent came unexpectedly to see the patient, along with Martha. He was embarrassed and uncomfortable. He looked everywhere but at Lex. But he expressed his willingness to give assistance, as far as he could. Clark knew it cost him a lot. 

"Thanks, Mr. Kent," Lex said, sounding humble and sincere. "It would be great if you could send us a crate of your produce now and then, when we go back to the penthouse." 

Clark's father seemed relieved. This he could do easily. "Of course. No problem. Twice a week?" 

"That will do fine." 

Clark and Martha exchanged hopeful looks behind Jonathan's back. 

"It must be worse than I thought," Lex commented with a sarcastic grin when Clark's parents left the room. "I must have one foot in the grave." 

"Thanks for making things easier for him," Clark said. 

"I just feel like eating a good toasted cob." 

Clark smiled. He loved this Lex. The one who expressed his feelings through actions, even though he had difficulty putting them in words. Most people opened their mouth and drooled. Lex acted. It was far more better. He was no hypocrite, despite all his theatrics and studied moves. It got on Clark's nerves that most people, his father included, couldn't see that. 

* * *

When Lex left the hospital, Lionel sent a formal message. They'd heard nothing from him during Lex's hospitalization. Some days later he dropped by after dinner. Father and son started quarreling almost immediately. They didn't yell - they never did - but they knew subtler ways to hurt each other. Lionel, outspokenly, proposed to buy a heart. He didn't succeed with Lillian, he said, but at the time he had waited too long, had let her convince him. Lex was more like him, he stated smugly; he had no moral sense. So this time it would be different. He could help him. 

But Lex wouldn't listen to him. Clark saw his eyes grow hard, his jaw tighten, his fists clenching until his knuckles turned white. 

"Dad, don't do anything," he said bluntly, in a commanding voice. "I don't need you. I don't need your help. You've done too much, already. For once, leave me alone." 

Clark showed Lionel out. At the door, Lex's father took him to the side. 

"You've never worried me," he informed him. "You're just one of his whims. And I'm sure you have several reasons to stay with him. He's rich, he's in the jet set... 

"I don't..." Clark started, offended. 

Lionel cut him off. "It doesn't bother me. I just want you to keep it up, whatever happens. To watch over him. You'll be well paid. I went through this once, and I can't face it all over again. It's a good deal. Take it or leave it." 

For a long moment Clark just stood there in silence, taken aback. He managed to fight off the urge to protest. Lionel's words sounded harsh, but their implicit meaning softened them. They made him seem strangely human. Albeit in a distorted way, that man loved his son. Clark felt something akin to understanding. 

"I'll stay with him", he promised, quietly. 

A tiny, smug smile crooked Lionel's lips. 

"Because I love him," Clark continued. "Not because of your money. You can keep it." 

Narrowing his eyes, Lionel stared at him as if he were trying to figure out what his real purpose was. He probably concluded that it was just the stupid stance of a stupid farm boy - to him he would always be a farm boy, the Kents' kid, even if he had graduated and begun a brand new career - because he shrugged and left with a condescending smile. 

That night, it took Clark a hydromassage session, several kisses and almost desperate love-making to rid Lex of the nervous tension that stiffened his body. It wasn't the first time, and both of them knew it wouldn't be the last. 

* * *

The following month passed by as usual. Nearly. Lex underwent his therapy, managing not to change his routine very much. They kept on working, going out to dinner and, when Lex wasn't too tired, to social and business functions. The news of Lex's disease hadn't leaked out to the press, yet. Lionel saw to it, and this eased the relationship with his son a little, although they continued to keep each other at arm's length. Everything was so much the usual that at some point Clark began to believe nothing serious had happened at all. Until the day Lex collapsed at a board meeting. 

"This isn't good for business," he told Clark that night, with a faint, sarcastic grin. But he wasn't amused at all. His father had been there when it happened. 

"He wasn't annoyed," Lex said. "He was worried. And kind." 

"Because he loves you, Lex." Clark smiled. 

"No, because he knows I am not a menace to him anymore. He looked at my mother that way. At the end." 

For the first time, Clark saw the shadow of fear in his pale blue eyes. It made his heart plummet. He reached out to touch Lex, but Lex flinched, going taut. He held up a warning hand to dissuade him from getting closer. Clark didn't move. He didn't feel hurt. But his heart ached for Lex. He could feel the struggle within him. He knew how vexed Lex was. More with himself than Clark. He didn't like to look vulnerable. Luthors didn't whine, Luthors didn't fear anything, Luthors didn't retreat, Luthors didn't surrender. Luthors didn't need anybody. He had learnt Lionel's lessons well. But sometimes he found it difficult to carry them out. Especially in front of the one who knew him better than anyone else. Since he had been released from the hospital, he had tried so hard to keep control over his life, to look confident and as arrogant and smart as ever, and now he saw everything collapse like a house of cards. 

Occasionally Lex let Clark take care of him, like at the hospital, like when he quarreled with his father. But Lionel's teachings often took over, preventing him from showing weakness and accepting support. This was one of those times, and Clark forced himself to stand by, watching him fight to regain his composure. 

"Yesterday I got my last test results," Lex said abruptly, putting on his impassive Luthor face. 

"What? Why..." Clark started, indignant at not having being informed earlier. 

"You weren't at home yesterday night, remember? And this morning I got up early." 

A flash of guilt, and Clark blushed. He had been feeling like that since Lex's hospitalization. He still went on patrol from time to time. He couldn't not go. Though when he was flying over the country, looking for a stranger to save, he couldn't help but think of Lex home alone, and all the time wasted, away from the one he loved. Now he wondered why he always had to behave like the last boy-scout. He wasn't the only superhero around, after all. What about that old school friend of Lex's, Bruce Wayne? Couldn't his Batman do Superman's job as well? Perhaps it was time for him to become more selfish. 

"The tests results...?" he urged, giving up any attempt to defend himself. 

"They aren't good. I'm getting worse," Lex replied flatly, as if he were talking about someone else. 

Clark felt cold inside. 

"Lex..." he said, stepping forward. Lex raised his hand again. 

"I'm okay. I'll be okay. I can always have the transplant. I'm reaching the top of the list and my researchers have designed an anti-rejection therapy. They're sure it will work with the right donor. Don't worry. I just have to reorganize." 

He was clinging to the familiar, choosing the managerial approach as if his bad heart could be tamed by means of a hostile takeover bid. Clark hoped Lex sounded more convincing to himself than he did to him. He swallowed hard and painfully managed to keep from stepping closer and hugging him. 

"I'll have to break my bad habits and give up working for a while," Lex went on, frowning as he made his plans, the same way he did over prospectuses and balance sheets. "I'm clearly becoming a hindrance there, as today's events prove." 

Clark couldn't believe his ears. Lex's decision sounded rational, yes, but Clark knew Lex. Sometimes he thought Lex was his job. It defined him: Lex the businessman, Lex the manager, Lex the executive. His job was essential, like air for him. The most important thing, Clark feared. It was the ground where he could compete with his father. The thing he had proven to be good at while everybody was waiting to see him fail. The thing he could do best. Well, at least the one he could show the world. His ambition, his achievements, kept him alive. Clark couldn't even imagine him without calls to take, board-meetings to attend, reports to review, and a crowd of bores, underlings and toadies clamoring for his attention. Clark feared that if Lex gave it up, he wouldn't be himself anymore. And it would end with him giving up everything else. Still, Lex was right. He wasn't at his best anymore. He needed some rest. He had to look after himself. 

"Okay," Clark concurred. "I'll take my vacation time. We can go to the cottage. It's not too far away and..." 

Lex interrupted him, in a low, even voice. "You should leave, Clark." 

Taken aback, Clark blinked in bewilderment. It took him some time to figure out what Lex was saying. Then he stiffened, panic running along his spine. 

"No, I shouldn't. I won't," he replied, surprised by his own voice. It was firm, tightly controlled. 

Lex lowered his gaze, as if he could find the right words in the carpet's design. 

"I have to face this by myself," he murmured. "I... have to... concentrate..." 

Clark felt tears stinging his eyes. He fought them back. "I know what you're trying to do," he said, his lips quivering. "I know you better than you do. Building a wall between us will not help you to keep out the ills of the world. I'm not your weakness, Lex. I'm your strength. Why can't you see that? We have to stick together. Let me do this for you." 

Lex shook his head. "It isn't fair." 

"Who said it's up to you to decide?" Clark raged, tears threatening to spill. "Who said you are the master here? You like thinking you're the leader, but if I had waited for you, we'd still be just friends. If it had been up to you, we would have never gotten together." 

The cool, tiny smirk Lex gave him warmed his heart. "It's what I made you believe," he teased. 

"I'll stay by you," Clark informed him. "You have been my best friend, my lover, my teacher. It's time for me to repay you." 

"You owe me nothing. You saved my life more than once. I'll always be in your debt." Lex dropped onto the couch. The smirk was gone, and bitterness replaced it, darkening his eyes. He rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his bare scalp thoughtfully. Clark sat beside him on the couch. Lex seemed not to notice him. Clark shifted closer to him, touched his thigh tentatively, finding no resistance. Encouraged, he slipped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a tight, mute embrace, clinging to him as if Lex would escape if he let go. 

"I can fight it off", Lex said without looking at him, as if talking to himself. "I can beat it." 

Clark felt his heart grow heavy. "Sure you can", he murmured in his ear. He nuzzled his neck, inhaling the heady scent of Lex's expensive cologne. 

"After all", Lex continued, absently, "I'm a Luthor." 

Clark slid to the floor. Kneeling in front of the other man, he gently took his wrists and pulled his arms down. When Lex looked up at him, he lay his hands on his shoulders and pressed Lex back against the couch, positioning himself between his legs. Then he began unbuttoning his blue silk shirt. He placed a hand on his lover's pale skin, pausing at his chest, aware of the frail heartbeat, concentrating on it as if Lex's bad heart could be tamed by means of love alone. Then, locking eyes with him, Clark trailed his hand along his neck and ran a thumb over his lips. He closed his fingers around Lex's chin, drawing him into a delicate kiss. Responsive, Lex opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. Pulling back, Clark gave Lex his best childlike smile, the one he had always loved. 

"You're Lex", he finally replied. "It's more than enough." 

Lex leaned forward and kissed that smile, rolling his tongue over soft lips. Clark returned the kiss, hungrily. 

"Promise you will never lie to me," Lex breathed against his mouth, his heart beating loudly in Clark's sensitive ears. "Not now. Not anymore." 

Clark closed his eyes, remembering Lex's outrage when he was eventually told about his alien origins. He had feared he could never gain Lex's trust again. He softly pressed his forehead against Lex's. 

"I've already promised, remember? I'll never lie to you again. In return, you won't give up. Promise. You'll keep on fighting." 

Lex let out a soft chuckle. Clark cupped his face in his hands and looked him directly in the eyes. A small sardonic smile crooked Lex's lips. 

"Till death", he said. 

Clark laughed under his breath, relieved to see that his streak of black humor was still there, after all. 

* * *

As promised, Lex proved himself a fighter. The following weeks he did all his doctors told him to do, and more. He took his medicines and changed his diet. He had yoga lessons along with Clark. That was amusing, but turned out useless in the end. Like everything else. LuthorCorp practically owned Metropolis Hospital, that was true, but this didn't make its doctors miracle-workers. The only hope was still the transplant, and it looked as if Lex's turn was never coming. Meanwhile, he got worse and worse. He got easily tired, and his breathing sometimes became labored, like it was, he remembered, when as a child he suffered from asthma. If respiration got hard, he resorted to the oxygen mask. When it was absolutely necessary. Clark suspected it made him feel dependent. Vulnerable, somehow. "I'd never had a bald head and difficulty in breathing at the same time," Lex remarked once, sarcastically. "See? At last I've managed to look like Darth Vader, my all-time favorite villain." Those were the good moments, when he felt positive or wanted other people to think so. But _Luthor Heir's Bad Health_ finally hitting the headlines, along with speculations about LexCorp's future, and the realization that he was failing in spite of all his efforts, obviously unnerved him. At least, it was obvious to Clark. 

"I'm sick," Lex announced one night abruptly, while they were having dinner in the penthouse. Clark stopped eating, his fork half-way up. "What? You feel...Where? Stomach? Heart?" he stammered, alarmed. Lex seemed taken aback by his reaction, but he recovered quickly. A smile spread over his face. It wasn't ironic. It was genuine, and laced with barely veiled affection. 

"I mean I'm sick of all this," he explained. "I'm fed up with Metropolis, this place, the hospital. I need a change of air." 

Clark sat his fork down and warily swallowed, not sure what to anticipate from him. 

"This time last year you were planning to tour Europe," Lex reminded him. Clark's eyebrows rose fractionally. "That was before graduation. Before getting the job at The Daily Planet." 

"We can do it now," Lex proposed. "I'll be your guide. I'll show you my favorite sites. It will be fun." 

"It 's ridiculous," corrected Clark. "Besides, I've already seen Europe." 

"When?" 

"While patrolling. I've been at least three times to England, and once in... uh... I don't know where, exactly, but I remember I prevented a train wreck." 

"Really!" exclaimed Lex in a mocking tone. "And I guess you paused during the job to enjoy the landscape. C'mon, Clark." 

Blushing, Clark retorted: "Well, in any case you're sick, Lex. Really. The doctors will never allow you to do this. You can't afford a little trip, let alone a tour through Europe." 

"I'm not going to take a plane, Clark," Lex said, quietly. 

Clark frowned. "What do you mean?" 

"Hello, Clark. You're the Flying Wonder, remember? We could tour all over the world in few minutes." 

Clark stared at him in disbelief. "You can't be serious." 

"I am." 

Clark shook his head, steadfastly. "This could kill you. I'm not going to take that chance. No way. You're..." 

"Fine," concluded Lex. "I feel fine." 

"Yeah. Today. What about tomorrow or next week? And if they found a new heart while we are away..." 

"You'd carry me back at once," Lex argued. "And, in any case, there are good hospitals and renowned specialists in Europe too. If it makes you feel better, I can undergo an examination there, to get another opinion." 

"But..." 

"Clark, stop it," Lex gently but firmly ordered. 

Clark quickly complied, almost comforted by that familiar display of authority. 

"I'll be okay with you," Lex granted, his tone softening. "You promised: everything's going to turn out okay if we stay together." 

Clark looked upon his love's hopeful, expectant face, touched by the confidence he displayed in Clark's ability to protect him. He felt his resolution faltering. He might be the strongest man in the world, but Lex had him twisted around his little finger. Clark let him do it. And let him believe that he wasn't aware of it. But he was, and at times he tried and managed to assert himself, feeling slightly embarrassed at being so submissive. But some part of him relished going back to the naive, young, farm boy who, ages before, looked up to his older friend, simply astonished to be sought after by a worldly and stylish man like Lex, and anxious to learn everything he could from him. Clark couldn't deny Lex anything. Now less than ever. He knew. And worst of all, Lex knew it, too. 

"Okay," he sighed. "But at the first sign of problems, we come back." 

Lex's face lit up with a wide smile. Clark knew and loved the whole range of his smiles: amused, sly, sweet, quirky, leering, cool, bitter, sincere, the sarcastic ones above all... But this was the happy smile of a kid who'd finally gotten what he wished for most, and Clark felt like crying, felt a warm constriction in his chest and thought this made it all worth it. 

* * *

Their parents' reaction to the news was utterly predictable. Lionel, like Jonathan, looked relieved to put an ocean between him and Lex, although he appropriately expressed his objections. As his son expected, he didn't offer to see them off at the airport, which was lucky, because they weren't going to take a plane. 

On the other hand, Martha showed genuine concern and understanding. She motherly tried to talk Lex out of leaving, but at the same time she seemed to console herself with the thought that carrying out that crazy idea, as she called it, was so important to him. 

When they parted, she hugged them with all her might, and cried holding Lex, as if it were the last time she'd ever see him. He didn't spill a tear, but Clark saw him close his eyes and shape his lips in a fond smile, hugging her back. He pressed his cheek against her head, inhaling the fragrance of her red hair, as if to memorize it. 

It wasn't Lex's first flight with Superman Airlines, but it was his first across the Atlantic and, of course, the first in his current state. He looked neither scared nor bothered, though. He didn't cling to him, grabbing his costume in awe and wonder as the people he saved usually did. He just trustingly snuggled against Clark's side, wrapped up in his strong arm, as if he felt that nothing could hurt him as long as he was held in this tight embrace. There was an expression of sheer joy and excitement on his face while he was gazing into the immensity of the starlit sky and the tumultuous darkness of the ocean, and Clark reveled in watching him take it all in, feeling almost overwhelmed. 

They landed softly on the roof of the Meridien Piccadilly in London. 

"Are you okay?" Clark inquired, anxiously. "You tired?" 

He needn't have asked. Lex's eyes were bright, his cheeks rosy, his lips shaped into an open, heartwarming smile. 

"Now it's time to go shopping," he announced. "I bet our baggage hasn't arrived yet. And, anyhow, I want you to get a new wardrobe." 

"Shops must be closed by now." 

"We'll get them reopened," Lex shrugged flippantly, heading for the stairs. "We can start here, go on to Paris and Milan, and end up in Rome." 

Clark followed him, amused and worried at the same time. "You'll end up having a heart attack if you don't calm down. You can't get excited, remember?" 

Lex gave him a mischievous look. "Why live, then?" 

It was just the beginning. They roamed Europe like two carefree globe-trotters, as Clark would have liked to do after graduation. Lex did seem to revive a bit into his old self. Full of wit and eloquence. All quotations and classic anecdotes. He was Clark's personal cicerone. He bought a camera and a camcorder and encouraged Clark to record everything like "a fucking Japanese tourist". "So Martha will see where we have been", he explained. 

At first, Lex showed him the places that used to be habitual hangouts for him and a band of fellow students as rich, spoiled and unbridled as he, a sort of trip down memory lane. In Paris, he challenged himself and insisted on going clubbing. Afterwards he was so worn out they had to give up. He didn't loose his good mood, but he came to the conclusion that those places had lost their appeal. "They haven't changed, I guess, but I am a different man", he explained. "And they don't suit you. I should have thought of it." 

He said they needed to build some memories of their own, and invited Clark to lay out a brand new itinerary. They really had a good time. Clark enjoyed Amsterdam, Madrid, Barcelona, Vienna, the Bavarian castles. Above all, he loved visiting them with Lex, being guided by him, listening to him in wonder while Lex fluently spoke foreign languages with the locals. As for Lex, he seemed to revel in Clark's enthusiasm, almost as if he were feeding on it. "Visiting these places with you is like seeing them for the first time", he said once. "And it's true, in a sense, because the other times I was distracted by business matters, or looking for other kinds of distractions. But I must confess: I had never visited the castles before." 

And he adored them, sure as hell. He said Ludwig's megalomania reminded him of his father. Neuschwanstein Castle, built to realize Ludwig's foolish, expensive Wagnerian ideals, reminded him of the "Luthor ancestral home", shipped over from Scotland, stone by stone, as a display of Lionel's power. But Lex was a romantic too, and loved that fairy landscape more than Clark knew he would admit. So it wasn't difficult for Clark to convince him to stay overnight in one of those charming Schwangau hotels that looked like doll houses. They made love like newly-weds on their honeymoon, as they hadn't done since the worsening of Lex's health. They cuddled, and slept happily in each other's arms. Or rather, Lex slept while Clark just lay there, watching him fondly, thinking he looked helpless like a child, beautiful like an angel. He'd listen to Lex's soft breathing, using his sensitive hearing to pick up the slightest irregularity in its cadence. 

Lex hadn't miraculously recovered. Sometimes he still breathed with great difficulty and always felt fatigue when he strained himself, but most of the time he looked much better than he had in Metropolis, so much so that Clark began to think he had done well to let Lex win him over to his "crazy idea". So he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach when the renowned Swiss cardiologist, from whom Lex had sought a second opinion, confirmed the first diagnosis. He expected Lex's condition to worsen rapidly. The transplant, he claimed, was unavoidable. Sitting beside Lex in the consultation room, Clark glanced sidelong at him, seeing his jaw harden just a little. He could sense the tension in the muscles when he stealthily placed a hand on Lex's left knee. The only sign that Lex had cherished a hope too. Otherwise he maintained his usual emotionless demeanor. 

On their way out neither one of them spoke. It was Clark who finally broke the silence. "We'd better go home." 

"Why?" Lex asked. 

"Why?" Clark mimicked. "You heard the doctor." 

"He didn't add anything to what we already knew," he said, quietly. 

Clark sank on a bench and squinted against the sun. He absently took note of the glittering lake and the dark green hills dotted with picturesque hamlets. In a moment like this, that magnificent sight nearly seemed a joke in bad taste. 

"Yes, but I... you..." Clark stuttered. "How can you take all of this in stride?" 

"In stride?" A bitter, throaty chuckle. "In stride." Lex slid his hands into his pockets. "I don't seem to have many choices. What would you like me to do? Tear at my hair? I haven't got any." 

Clark looked at him, agape. Lex sat down next to him, the corners of his lips slowly turning up. "Besides, you know what they say: ill weed never dies. But if I can do nothing but wait, I might as well do it in my own way. Milan is a stone's throw from here and you've got no Armani suit yet." 

Clark found himself at a loss. He would have liked to protest, but he didn't. He knew he was helpless against that smile. And then, maybe Lex would be right once again. Maybe he knew what was best for himself. Perhaps all Clark had to do was trust him. So, he nodded. 

* * *

Of course, Milan wasn't their last stop. They saw Venice, Bologna, Florence, Pisa and Siena. In Rome they put up in the Luthor apartment in Trastevere, a sunny, comfortable loft decorated with cream-colored furniture and lively carpets and curtains. 

"Lex, it's wonderful," Clark commented in surprise. "It's... cozy. It's so... un-Lex like." 

"Is that a compliment or an insult? Anyway, I must give credit to the interior designer," Lex explained. "But you haven't seen anything, yet. C'mon." 

Clark followed him across an airy living room, towards the sliding glass doors. Lex opened them and waved him on outside. Clark glanced around in total wonder. A terrace! Flowery, wide enough to connect the dining room and a bedroom. And looking over a breath-taking cityscape. Clark could see the buildings, the ruins, the fountains, the people, the traffic flowing through the piazza below. 

"Do you like it?" Lex asked, with a smug smile. 

Clark nodded, speechless. 

"And now for the best part," Lex announced, cheerfully. 

What could possibly be better than that? Lex led the way out of the apartment and into the elevator. Downstairs, they crossed the piazza to Danilo, a bar that smelled of coffee and fresh brioches. They sat at a small outdoor table. When the waiter came, Lex raised a finger to stop Clark and ordered cappuccino and cannoli for both of them. 

"The best cappuccino in the world," Lex explained. "You have to taste it." 

"What about the cannoli?" 

"Delicious. Pastry rolls stuffed with custard. You'll love them." 

He did love them. And the bomboloni - a kind of lighter donut - even more. The cappuccino was beyond description. 

"When I spent my holidays in Rome, I used to come here after clubbing to buy a cappuccino and a croissant." 

"You seem to have gone clubbing all over the world." 

One side of Lex's mouth quirked up. "Almost. But here, when... if I managed to crawl out of the bed, I went visiting the ruins and the museums. The nights were for avoidance, the days for learning. Ah, tonight I'll show you my favorite gelateria. They make wonderful ice-creams. It's not far from here. I hope it's still there." 

Clark bit his lip. "Lex, what are you trying to do?" 

"What?" Lex repeated, confused. 

"You've been like this from the beginning of the tour," Clark accused, his throat tight with irritation and anxiety. "You stopped after that night in Paris. Now you're at it again." 

"I simply thought you'd appreciate a good cappuccino or a good ice-cream." 

"It's not just that," Clark insisted, looking him dead in the eye. He hated himself for this, but he just couldn't help it. "I'm not an idiot. Why are you telling me all those old stories of you and your friends, and what you said and what you did and where you went... And the camera, Lex, and the camcorder. And don't say it's for my mom." 

They sat in silence for a while, over their second cup of cappuccino. Lex cleared his throat and spoke quietly: "Since they haven't invented brain transfer yet, I suppose I'm trying to hand some of my memories down to you." 

Clark stiffened. He had feared something like this. A chill crept through him in the warm breeze of Roman spring. "I... I don't want... Keep them. You don't have... you don't need to do this," he sputtered. 

"Slow down, Clark." 

"Is that what this is all about? Is this the reason why you took me here? Are you going to die and leave me alone with your precious memories?" 

Lex shook his head. "I'm not going to die", he sighed, patiently. "Not yet. Not if I have any say in the matter. And you know I never run out of words." He smiled his little smirk and Clark, as always, had to fight the urge to kiss it. 

"I had fun here, Clark", Lex went on. "I felt alive. I just wanted to feel like that again. And I wanted to share my memories with you, yes. At least at first. It was... a precaution, like banking your savings." 

He smiled again, sadly, and Clark felt the impulse to kiss him even stronger. 

"I've got many regrets and few things to be proud of. I've wasted so much time, you cannot understand." 

I can. You can't imagine how much, Clark mused, repenting for the nth time the precious hours spent playing superhero while Lex was waiting for him at home. 

"I forgot entire periods of my life. I was in a complete daze. Out of my head. The drugs, the parties, the clubs, all those strangers' faces, the girls and guys I bedded, people that meant nothing to me. All those years...trying...I don't know...to forget... my mother, my father... To lose myself. It was all so vain. I can see that now. My real life started when I got to Smallville. When I met you. I was given a second chance, and I thought I had a whole life ahead to make up for lost time." Lex rubbed a hand over his head. "But I kept stalling, even with you." He curled his lips into a sarcastic smirk and proclaimed: "Nothing I did in life will echo in eternity." 

Clark frowned. "You've done wonderful things for Smallville," he reminded. 

"No one seems to realize it. If I died now, nobody would remember me." 

Clark reached for his hands on the small table. "I," he corrected. "I will never forget you. You, as you are, my beloved Lex. Not an account of your travels and achievements. But this is all unnecessary, because you're not going to die, remember? You'll stay by me, won't you? There are still a lot of things to see in Rome. I must learn, and you'll teach me." He stared at Lex expectantly, nervously squeezing his hands. Lex nodded, turning his smirk into a full blown smile. There was something in his eyes, though, maybe a hint of indulgence for him that Clark pretended not to see. Chose not to see. 

* * *

They went on "learning". Clark relished Lex's enthusiastic lectures on history, art, and architecture, as he'd never done before. He simply loved listening to Lex talk, watching the sparkle of excitement in his eyes. It was like a state of grace, and as such it didn't last long. 

The Swiss doctor was right. Lex's condition worsened suddenly. He had a heart failure while they where visiting the Pantheon. He stopped breathing. He had to be revived through defibrillation and hospitalized again. It freaked Clark out, and he told him so when Lex eventually left the intensive care unit. 

"See?" Lex replied, hoarsely. "At last I did manage to draw your attention." 

"You already had it." 

A weary smile crooked Lex's dry lips. His face was haggard, white on the white pillow, his eyes sunken. 

"Y'know, I'm a Luthor. We never have enough of what we like: shirts, cars, power, the attention of beautiful boys and girls..." 

He gave a small laugh that immediately broke down into a fit of coughing. Clark stepped closer. Lex put up a hand, regaining his composure. 

"Don't worry", he croaked. "It's just cough." 

"And that was just a heart attack," Clark burst out. 

"Yeah." Lex's eyes went suddenly dreamy, almost ecstatic, while his lips formed a slow smile. "I fell onto the original floor where Roman emperors used to tread. How appropriate. For one second I was staring at the sky through the hole in the vault. It was so blue, so bright... Wonderful. My father would appreciate an end like that. " 

Wide-eyed and flustered, Clark stared at him speechless, until the words spilled out of his mouth, low, even hollow: "As soon as they release you, we'll go home." 

"No," Lex said, simply. He was very focused, now, the familiar determination sparkling in his gray-blue eyes. 

"No?!" Clark exclaimed. "No?" he repeated in a lower voice, remembering that they weren't alone. Italian public hospitals didn't have private rooms. Luckily enough, Lex's only roommate was an old man who looked a bit hard of hearing. 

"Be calm, Clark. Try to keep it together." 

"You are a businessman," Clark reminded, frustrated. "We had an agreement. Now you're not keeping to the terms. Remember? At the first sign..." 

Lex cut him off. "Yes, it's time. Go home, Clark." His voice was schooled, emotionless, sober. 

"Go..." Clark repeated, confused. 

"Go to Metropolis. Go on with your life." 

For a moment Clark stood petrified. Finally he managed to whisper: "I think we've had this conversation before." 

"It was different." 

"Different?!" Clark yelled, unable to restrain himself, fear and despair surging through him like magma inside a volcano. "Yes, it's different. Now you need me more than ever!" 

"I'll be okay, Clark." Flat voice, calm face, devoid of emotion. "I'll employ a housekeeper and a nurse. They'll take good care of me." 

"What?!" Clark fought back the impulse to grasp him, shake him, slap him. And then, realization crept in on him, stirring his insides. "I can't believe this", he blurted out. "Oh God, you had it all planned, didn't you? You did this on purpose. You had no intention of going back to Metropolis. You came... you... came here to die." 

Lex sighed. "You keep overrating me. We already discussed this. You know why we came to Europe. What makes you think I had everything arranged?" 

"The fact that I know you, Lex. You estimate, forecast, plan everything. You leave nothing to chance." 

"Well, I didn't expect this, Clark. I didn't want it. But it happened. And now we... I must be realistic. For both of us, if necessary. At the moment, the odds don't seem to be in my favor, and if ... things go wrong, I'd rather be in my Roman house than in Metropolis. Wonderful view, the best cappuccinos, ice-creams, and pizzas in the world. What else could I want?" The ghost of a smile, then he got serious again. "Once, I thought I loved Metropolis. Now I feel I couldn't bear it. It's gray, cold, oppressive. I couldn't breathe there. And... the press. Here common people don't know me. I'm not a movie star or a rock star. The paparazzi will leave me alone." 

Clark sucked in a breath and willed himself to calm down. 

"You have already decided. Without asking me. And according to you, two helpers should take my place. Well, I'm your boyfriend. Your lover. It might surprise you, Lex, but you can't replace me with a housekeeper!" 

Lex cast a worried glance at the other patient, who was looking at them with a perplexed expression on his wrinkled face. 

"He doesn't understand, Lex," Clark reminded him, unnerved. "And even if... I don't give a damn. How can you worry about what people think in a moment like this?" 

"Out of habit, I suppose." 

"That's crazy, since you lost your reputation long ago." 

A small grin formed on Lex's lips. "I'm the prodigal son. Now I must behave properly." He briefly closed his eyes, as to shore up his strength. 

Clark felt sick, felt guilty, felt like crying. He sank down onto the guest chair to the right of Lex's bed. He shook his head, drew in a shaky breath. When their eyes met again, he whispered: "I can't leave you, Lex. I can't go back home without you." 

Quiet, dismissive tone: "I don't want your pity, Clark." 

Clark stared at his steel blue eyes, his pale skin, his finely chiseled, exhausted features and was shocked, once more, at the intensity of his desire for him. Lex still attracted him like a magnet. Clark had mooned over Lana for years, but he had never felt for anyone what he felt for this man. Even now. Especially now. Once, he had loved Lex's energy, his force of will, his determination. Now he loved his vulnerability, he even loved the fear Lex was trying so hard to conceal, although he ached deep inside for him. He ploughed his fingers through unruly hair. 

"This has nothing to do with pity," he said, tiredly. "I love you, Lex. Why do you find it so difficult to accept?" 

A faint smile appeared on Lex's face. "Habit again, I fear. I'm not used to it." 

"Even after all this years?" 

"Bad habits die hard." 

"Well, you'll have to accustom yourself to it. I won't allow you to chase me away." 

Lex sighed. "I know I'm neither attractive nor amusing at the moment, and I'm probably not going to look any better, presently. I wouldn't blame you if... 

"You look perfect to me", Clark murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You always will." 

Lex swallowed hard, his eyes shimmering. Clark saw him blink and successfully strive to put his well-practiced mask back in place. His warning came out husky but steady: "It's not going to be easy." 

Clark resisted the urgent need to rush forward and hug him. Instead he grinned, to ease the tension. "Hey, I'm Superman." 

* * *

Lex came out of the hospital in a wheelchair. He could still stand, but for briefer and briefer periods. The mere effort left him so drained that at some point he stopped trying altogether. He did take the two helpers, but Clark wouldn't allow them to touch him. Even the nurse. She gave him his injections and his pills and lived in, to be available in case of emergency, but she wasn't expected to do anything else. Clark took care of Lex. This was the rule Clark himself had established. He helped Lex wash, dress, sometimes even eat. He carried him to the bathroom. When Lex felt like it, Clark wheeled him to the bar or around the block. The shopkeepers were kind to them. When they saw Clark alone they always inquired about his sweet young friend. They thought he suffered from cancer, because of his baldness and lean body. They thought Clark was his hired help. He didn't bother to correct them. It didn't really matter. Sometimes he found himself thinking that nothing mattered anymore. 

Lex insisted on his going out. He wanted him to keep visiting the city. Clark complied because he knew it made Lex feel better. And indeed it wasn't difficult to find new things to see everyday. He would often run unexpectedly into magnificent ruins or fountains, just going round a corner. When he came back from his walks, he always took something to Lex: a sweet, a magazine, a book, a little souvenir. Then he sat next to him and gave him an account of what he had seen and done. It was becoming a ritual of sorts. 

Generally, he found Lex on the terrace, sitting in his wheelchair, with a book in his hand. And there he was this evening too. Clark promptly schooled his face into a picture of serenity. Every night he emailed his mother, giving vent to what he couldn't say to Lex, all his fears and worries. Without that, he was afraid he couldn't have kept the balance of his mind. 

"Hey, lazy-bones", he joked, joining him at the railing. 

Lex looked up and smiled. He was wearing blue sweatpants and a light gray t-shirt with HOLY ROCK CAFE - ROMA scrawled across it, one of Clark's first souvenir gifts. He couldn't bear silk anymore. And he had started to hate shirts. Too many buttons to fasten and unfasten. 

"Hey. What's that?" His voice was weak, his face weary, but somehow animated by the indestructible liveliness of his eyes. And he looked young. So young. 

Clark smiled back, putting the tray he was carrying on the ledge. 

"The best cappuccino in the world, directly from Danilo. And don't say I never think of you." 

"I mean that," Lex said, pointing at the pink rose lying on the tray beside the ceramic cup and saucer. 

Clark gave him the cup. "A present for you from the new waitress." 

"That pretty blond girl?" 

"Yeah, Martina. I suspect she's set her eyes on you. Should I be jealous?" 

"Of course," Lex answered in mock seriousness, sipping at his cappuccino. "If I were you, I'd be watchful." 

Clark resisted the urge to lean down and lick the froth off his upper lip. Lex did it by himself. 

"What are you reading?" Clark asked. 

Lex closed his eyes and whispered: "Si sta come/d'autunno/ sugli alberi/le foglie. We stay like/in fall/on trees/the leaves." 

As he recited, his voice seemed to regain its old smooth, silky timbre, and Clark felt a tightness in his chest. He missed it so much. Spent, Lex slowly opened his eyes and looked up at him again. 

"Giuseppe Ungaretti, an hermetic poet. But he doesn't seem so hermetic to me," he commented, suddenly out of breath. "It's pretty clear what the poem means, I think," he managed. Then he lifted the oxygen mask hanging from his neck, placing it on his mouth and nose. 

"What's next?" Clark asked, half-heartedly, while Lex inhaled deeply. "The _Spoon River Anthology_?" 

Lex lowered the mask and flashed one of his small, lop-sided grins. 

"You're becoming sarcastic, Clark," he rasped. "Your father was right. I am a bad influence on you." 

"I may be getting sarcastic, but you are becoming morbid," retorted Clark. 

"Some people call it 'facing the truth'," Lex scoffed. "Hate to admit it, but my father might have been right." 

Clark frowned. "What about?" 

"Perhaps I should have accepted his offer." 

At first, Clark didn't understand Then he realized. "Buying a heart?" he remembered, stunned. "You can't be serious!" 

For a moment their gaze held, then Lex sighed. 

"Yeah..." he muttered bitterly, almost to himself. "Just one of those insane ideas that pass through your mind when you have nothing to do but think." 

"It's... really insane, Lex," Clark said, incredulous. "It's crazy. Where do you think he could buy it? It's illegal! Besides, nobody could willingly sell a heart. A compatible one, at that. You should know better. When your father is at a loss, he pulls out his money. Money is not always the solution." 

"Unfortunately," Lex admitted. "I know that. I was teasing you." 

Clark squinted at him, uncertain what to believe. 

" I need one of the few things money can't buy," Lex went on. "How ironic." 

"There are many things money can't buy," Clark protested. "Love, for instance." 

A sincere smile lit Lex's tired eyes. "In that I'm lucky." 

His smile faltered, his lungs working in hard breaths. He covered his nose and mouth again with the mask. Clark watched it mist over while Lex laboriously inhaled and exhaled. 

It was always a torture for Clark. He wished he could breathe for him, like on the riverbank at Smallville, when he had breathed life into him. Sometimes he watched Lex's cell phone for minutes and minutes, waiting for the call that could save him. Several times he had phoned Metropolis Hospital to make sure Lex was still on that damn list and they hadn't lost Lex's number. Sometimes he just felt like screaming. 

Lex pulled off the mask. A weak, brief chuckle escaped his lips. 

"It seems I'm no ill weed, after all. I could be one of the best... the ones destined to die young. Perhaps I shouldn't have given up my schemes for world domination." 

"Stop it, Lex," Clark said. "This isn't funny." 

"I told you it wouldn't be," Lex reminded. 

Clark bit his lip. He knew Lex couldn't help it. That was his way, and sticking to it somehow reassured him, gave him the illusion that he could keep a certain degree of control. Clark loved this cool sarcasm most of the time, but at times it was really more than he could bear. 

Lex gazed out over the city, and for a moment he seemed to be somewhere else. Then, his fingers tightened around his cup. "We need to talk," he announced, in a serious tone. 

Clark wrapped his arms around himself. He was pretty sure he wouldn't like what Lex was about to say. He shivered in the evening breeze. 

"It's getting cold, Lex," he urged, reaching for the half-empty cup of cappuccino. "I'll carry you inside." 

Lex turned away from the cityscape, eyes settling directly on him. He let Clark take away the cup from his hands and watched him as he set it down on the tray. Though when Clark bent down over him, Lex placed a hand on his chest, stopping him, pushing him back with all his strength, which was almost non-existent. Clark felt it. For a moment his face was level with Lex's, and Clark found himself looking into Lex's intense, piercing blue eyes. Clark averted his gaze, straightening up. 

"Clark, look at me," Lex said, softly. 

Clark complied, obediently. 

"Gotta plan ahead, remember? And I need your help for this. You aren't a kid anymore, and you freely chose to stay. Now there are some things we must discuss, in case..." 

Clark cut him off. "They'll call, Lex," he willfully stated. "You're going to be okay. You can't give in. Luthors don't give in," he repeated, as if reciting a spell. 

"A good general always knows when it's time to retire from the field." 

"You're not a general!" Clark protested. 

"But I'm fighting a battle. And it seems I'm not likely to win, this time." 

Clark shook his head. "You're just tired. You..." 

"Yes, Clark, I'm tired." Lex's tone was impatient, but his eyes were kind, sympathetic. "I am short of time, and you must tell me if I can rely on you." 

Clark clenched his hands. He licked his lips, lowering his voice to a whisper. "You know you can." 

Lex nodded, relieved. "Okay, Clark." 

He took in a breath and briefly closed his eyes, as if gathering himself together. Then he put on a deadpan face, and his words rolled out quickly, matter-of-factly. "I don't want to be kept alive by a machine. I left a note in the nightstand drawer." 

He looked into Clark's eyes, as to assure himself that he had understood. Clark had expected something like this. He felt the blood drain from his face, though. 

"Okay," he managed, in a strained voice. 

Satisfied, Lex went on in his business-like manner. "I made my will. I settled an annuity on you. You'll never have to worry about money. If you want, you'll be able to play Superman round the clock. And I want you to have my watch, the one with the Napoleon Franc." 

"The watch..." repeated Clark, numb. 

"Yes, the one my mother gave me. I leave it to you. It's important to me. Don't let my father or anyone else get their hands on it." 

Lex wheezed, put on the mask and sucked in a deep breath. Then he resumed, as if he were in his office giving directions to his assistant. 

"You'll have to take care of the arrangements. I want to be buried beside my mother, in Metropolis Cemetery." 

Clark cringed inside. His entire body had gone cold, his mouth dry. 

"The Armani black suit will do fine," continued Lex. "Along with a black tie. And something different. Something Lex-like." A cool, sarcastic smirk. "The violet shirt. What do you think about it?" 

Stop it, Clark thought. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. 

Lex frowned, staring worriedly at his face. "Clark?" 

Clark was frozen. And he was trembling, inside. He realized he had hoped against all hopes, all along. He had never really considered the worst case. And he still couldn't accept it. He couldn't imagine the world without Lex. He couldn't. Imagine. Him. In a coffin. Clark closed his eyes and squeezed them, trying to block out that horrible image. 

"Clark," Lex called, in a whining tone that didn't belong to him. He reached up and grabbed his shirt with unsuspected energy. Caught off guard, Clark let Lex drag him down, while his eyes flew open in bewilderment. He leaned on the wheelchair's arms, almost falling into grey-blue eyes shadowed with exhaustion. 

"I know it's hard," Lex panted. "But don't let me down. Please. Don't let my father take care of this. I want you to do it for me. Promise." 

There was pleading in his gaze, and a bit of shame too. The shame of a man used to exercising control over everything, and now forced to depend on someone else. Clark felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, but he managed to assure, in a mellow tone: "I promise." 

Immediately, Lex let go of his shirt, breath growing short. Completely spent, he slumped back against the wheelchair's back. Mask on. A few ragged breathes. Intense, haunted eyes fixed on Clark as if to absorb everything of him before it was too late. Clark felt something break in him. 

"You gotta get some rest." 

The words spilled out in a quiet, controlled voice, unrecognizable to himself. He gently pulled Lex forward and circled his waist with an arm, sliding the other under his legs. He lifted him up without the slightest effort. He was so light, Clark thought, that alien super-strength wouldn't be necessary to carry him. Lex managed to drape one arm around his neck, while the other hung limply along his side. He rested his head into Clark's chest, eyes closed in a peaceful expression, as if he had finally found a haven of safety. 

Once inside, Clark lowered him down on the king-size bed. 

"Can I get something fixed for you?" 

"I'm not hungry." 

"You've gotta eat." 

Lex shook his head, stubbornly. 

"Time to clean up, then. Do you feel like to have a bath?" 

Lex shook his head again. 

Clark nodded, went into the bathroom and returned with a couple of wet washcloths, a bottle of cleansing cream and a towel. He undressed Lex completely and gently scrubbed his body from head to toes, handling him professionally, as if the sight of his lover naked and so defenseless had no effect on him at all. Lex cooperated as always, meekly and quietly, made mute by embarrassment, by the loss of his much valued dignity. And, as expected, his body didn't react when Clark touched his sensitive spots with the washcloth, the result of a mix of medicines, exhaustion and humiliation. In his mind's eye, Clark saw a stranger taking care of Lex's cold, limp body. 

Black suit, black tie, black socks, violet shirt, Italian shoes. He winced at the mental image that had conjured up and tried to clear it from his mind, struggling to focus on what he was doing. He dried Lex off, then took his light blue cotton pajama bottoms and a lavender T-shirt from the drawer, helping him slip into them. He was about to straighten up, when Lex reached out and gathered Clark's face in his hands, remorse and understanding etched into his beautiful features. Clark pressed close for a kiss, licking the small scar on his upper lip. Lex yielded to him. Their tongues briefly intertwined, Clark tasting the sweet residue of cappuccino in Lex's mouth until he pulled back, suddenly afraid of taking his precious breath away. Lex sighed, brushing a lock from Clark's forehead. Running his fingers along Clark's cheek, he whispered: "I'm so sorry". 

Clark shook his head, placing a gentle kiss on his palm. "Don't say it, love," he begged, hoarsely. "Please, don't say that. Ever." 

Lex closed his eyes and rested his head against Clark's shoulder, as if his words were too much to take. His breaths grew erratic again. Lex let go of him and reached for the mask, slowly leaning back on the pillow. 

"Wanna watch TV?" Clark asked. 

Lex shook his head. 

"I'll bring you the wheelchair." 

Clark headed to the glass doors that led back onto the terrace and returned few seconds later with the wheelchair. He parked it beside the bed. 

"If you need something, call the nurse. I... I'm going out, tonight," he announced, tucking the blankets in around Lex. 

Lex pointedly didn't ask questions, but his eyes were fixed on him with a speculative look, over the edge of the mask. Clark couldn't bear it. He looked away. 

"I gotta go," he repeated, stepping out of the room into the hallway. 

He got the door closed behind himself and leaned against it. He sagged down, sliding to the floor, legs drawn up to his chest. He buried his face in his hands and burst into tears, silently, feeling utterly useless, wondering what the purpose of having superpowers was if he wasn't able to help the ones he loved. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and pushed up off the floor, walking down the hall and into his official bedroom, the one in which he kept his clothes and his laptop. He pulled Superman's outfit from the drawer and put it on, for the first time since they left Metropolis. He opened the window, checked the street below, the building opposite, then rushed quickly into the sky. 

* * *

He flew fast, tears sliding from the corners of his eyes, instantly evaporating into the air and drying on his face. He flew until the familiar cityscape appeared on the horizon: the bay, the bold steel buildings, the globe of the Daily Planet, Centennial Park, the LexCorp glass tower. He scanned everywhere, along the streets, through the walls, into the cars, until he found what was looking for. He heard the girl's choked plea, saw the rapist in action in a blind alley, behind a trash container. He swooped down on him, furiously seized him by his shoulders, and threw him aside, slamming him against the wall. The release of tension made him feel better but lasted the blink of an eye. The audible crack produced by the man's head smashing into the bricks weakened his knees, as panic washed through him in cold waves. The man slid down the wall like a broken doll, falling into a crumpled heap on the asphalt. Clark turned to the assaulted girl. She looked rumpled and a bit shocked but well enough, considering. 

"Go to the police and tell them what happened," he said, struggling to keep himself in check. "I'll take care of him." She nodded and went away, while he knelt beside the man and scanned his chest. He could pick up a beat, but it was barely there. He lifted the man up and flew him to Metropolis Hospital. 

Clark Kent the reporter stood outside the emergency room door while the medical team worked. He waited nervously as he had done a few months before for Lex. He felt drained, completely devoid of energy. Boneless. The Man of Steel. Lex would have found it ironic. He would flash one of his tiny smirks and make snide remarks about it. For a brief moment, Clark warmed himself on it. He wished he had stayed at home with him. When the doctor came out he introduced himself as a Daily Planet reporter and asked about the patient. 

"The blow was hard. We couldn't do anything. He's clinically dead," the doctor replied, matter-of-factly. 

Clark struggled to keep some semblance of composure. 

"Thank you," he said, in a professional tone, feeling his insides stir. 

As soon as he was alone again, he headed to the bathroom, trembling like a leaf, nausea hitting him in waves. He hung over the toilet and threw up the meager contents of his stomach, the acidic bile burning his throat. He washed his face and rinsed his mouth. Then he looked up into the mirror, catching the reflection of an almost unrecognizable face. Skin pale, look strained, eyes sunken and dry, because he had already shed all his tears. The face of a man who had just taken away another man's life. For the first time since he was a kid he hadn't been able to control his strength. He had let anger and despair get the better of him and that was the result. If only he had stayed at home. 

He tried to pull himself together and went to the pay phone down the hall. He called his contact in the police department to assure himself that the attempted rape victim had made her report. She had complied. As far as Superman was concerned, no consequences were expected. The young man's death would be recorded as an accident. This was surely good news, but at the moment it didn't make him feel any better. He had murdered a man and Lex was dying. Yes, he was dying. Clark had always known it could end up like that, but he had tried to keep it at the back of his mind, shutting his eyes, pretending not to see it. Unlike Lex. He was stronger than him. He was pragmatic. He knew. And now Clark had to admit it, too. In a short time, he would be alone. He would have to live through it, and face what he had become. He thought of Lex, lying on his bed. Across the ocean. Alone. Alive. Still alive. And what was he doing there, playing hero, destroying lives, while he could be with him, trying to make the best of their time together? He had made a terrible, terrible mistake. Desperate to make up for it, at least partly, he flew back to Lex. 

* * *

He landed on the terrace, the city lights shining in the darkness, the breeze flirting with the light curtains at the balcony door. Clark quietly made his way into the bedroom, immediately touched by the sight of Lex curled up on the bed. The nights were hard. Sometimes pills and exhaustion made Lex plummet into a deep, dull sleep that resembled death, and Clark just lay beside him, counting every breath, sensing the slightest heart rate change in his birdlike-ribcage. At times even pills were useless, and Lex was restless all night, tossing and gasping, Clark holding him in his arms, kissing, caressing, soothing him. 

He wondered what kind of night this was, as he closed the glass doors behind him and stripped himself of his costume, leaving only his boxers on. Then he pulled back the covers and silently climbed into the bed, carefully lying down beside Lex. 

"Ciao," Lex said, without turning. "Welcome home." 

"Ciao," Clark replied. "Can't sleep?" 

"Apparently not." 

A bit ironic, but mild. Lex didn't add anything. Didn't ask where he had been. Clark felt the need to tell him, let him know he wasn't cheating on him. 

"I went on patrol," he said. 

"Good", Lex said, flatly. "You needed some distraction. I guess Italian criminals aren't used to superheroes in spandex. How did they react?" 

"I went to Metropolis," Clark uneasily confessed. 

A brief chuckle. "I'm quite sure you could find something to do here too." 

"Force of habit, as you would say." 

"Yeah. Everything okay?" 

For a brief, selfish moment, Clark thought to tell him the truth, to seek consolation in him. But he couldn't do it. Couldn't give him one more thing to worry about. "Yes," Clark said, in a dismissive tone. 

A pause. 

"You know, you don't have to give me any explanation," Lex said, softly. "You can go out whenever you want. I don't want to hold you back. You have the right to live your life." 

You too, Clark thought, a lump growing in his throat. He snuggled closer. His fingers trailed over Lex's smooth head and down on his neck. Then his hand slid under Lex's shirt, yanking the hem up, tracing patterns on his back, roaming over his side and across his hairless chest, sending shivers through them both. 

"Are you trying to kill me?" Lex asked, catching his breath. 

"I'm trying to make you live," Clark corrected in a near whisper. 

He spooned behind Lex, stroking a hand down his thigh, placing gentle kisses to his scalp and nape. 

"I can't lose you," he whispered, in a broken voice. 

"Then hold me. Don't let me go." 

Breathless, Lex reached for the mask. Clark wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer, stringing soft, soothing kisses across his neck and his elegant shoulders. He felt Lex's smooth, frail chest heave under his hand, while he sucked in a few long breaths. Then he let the mask fall on the sheet and chuckled weakly. 

"Tell me the tale. Luthors don't give in. Luthors live forever..." 

"Lex, please..." 

A slight tremor roused Lex, while Clark's sensitive hearing picked up the almost inaudible hints of long-restrained tears. 

"Shh...I'm here, my love," Clark assured him, desperately trying to kiss his fear away. He had never felt so helpless. 

For a brief while, Lex whimpered softly, his slim body stirred by quiet, dignified sobs. When he calmed down, he caught hold of Clark's hand, their fingers lacing together. 

"I'm sorry. I don't know what's come over me tonight." 

"Your humanity, perhaps," Clark said, trying to liven the moment. 

"Don't be rude. I'm sick," Lex joked, lamely. 

Clark let out a brief, almost hysterical laugh, tears finally welling up in his eyes, rolling down the sides of his face, wetting the pillow and Lex's bare head. Lex brought his hand to his lips, brushing them over his knuckles. Clark's skin tingled at the feeling. 

"It isn't your fault, Clark," Lex said, in a calm, soft voice. 

Yeah, Clark bitterly thought. It wasn't his fault if he could easily destroy a life but could do nothing to save the one that mattered most to him. 

"If it wasn't for you, I would already be dead. You gave me a second chance, a third chance...You saved me so many times I lost count. Maybe I was fated. Even you can't fight death forever." 

They lay in silence for a long moment. Then Lex shifted to his other side to face him, slowly settling into his embrace. 

"You know, I've never believed in an afterlife. But what if I'm wrong?" 

"Are you planning to come back to haunt me?" Clark teased him. 

Lex laughed, feebly. "Maybe. No... I was thinking about my mom. It's silly, I know, but it would be easier if I knew I was going to see her again. I miss her so much..." 

Clark pressed a kiss to his forehead and hugged him close. Tears burned in his eyes again. He blinked them back. 

"I'm sure she's waiting for you, Lex," he choked out. "But she won't take offence if you keep her waiting for a while longer." He massaged his back soothingly. "Sleep now. It's late." 

"Yeah..." Lex admitted, sleepily. He closed his eyes and relaxed. He fell asleep a few minutes later, Clark's arms curled protectively around him. Clark stayed awake for a long while, watching over him, monitoring his sleep, reveling in the warmth of Lex's body, trying to memorize how it molded to his. He breathed in the scent of his skin. The fragrances of expensive cologne, scotch and cognac were gone, replaced by the smell of medicines and cleansing cream. But, like a dog, Clark could pick up Lex's unique, unmistakable scent, the one that was simply his own. Everything in that room smelled of Lex. Clark inhaled deeply, trying desperately to impress that scent on his mind. He fell asleep still cradling Lex, his smooth head resting peacefully in the curve of Clark's shoulder. 

* * *

The ring of the cell phone woke Clark abruptly. He blinked and lay still for a moment. It was dark outside, Lex still curled in his embrace. The phone rang again. Lex shifted and moaned in his sleep. Clark untangled himself and leaned over him to pick up the phone from the nightstand next to his side of the bed. He answered warily. His heart flipped in his chest at the words "Metropolis Hospital". Then he just made out "donor", "organ available for transplant" and "one hour". He asked the woman at the other end of the line to repeat everything from the beginning, in order to memorize the details. She complied, patiently. He thanked her and snapped the phone shut. He was trembling with excitement. 

"Lex!" he called, shaking him slightly. "Lex." 

Lex opened his eyes, uncurling and stretching like a cat. 

"What's up?" he asked, in a drowsy, slurred voice. 

Clark beamed at him and pulled him over for a loud kiss. "Get ready. We have to fly home." 

* * *

Clark slipped quietly into the hospital room, in order not to wake Lex up in case he caught him asleep or dozing, like the previous times. In fact, he was lying on the bed, eyes closed, tubes running out of his arms, another one at his nose. Clark walked over to the bed and looked down at him, fondly. It seemed impossible now that he had nearly lost him. He sat on the bedside chair and placed his hand on Lex's chest. Closing his eyes, he felt the slow throb of Lex's new heart against his palm. So strong. So regular. No rejection crisis yet, and none expected. Clark's eyes filled with tears. 

It had been easy for Clark Kent the reporter to find out who the donor was. It could be a good front-page story. Delinquent dies in fight with superhero - Heart goes to gravely ill young billionaire. He would bear that burden all his life. Knowing that he had had to sacrifice a life in order to save Lex's. And he would have to live through it alone, because Lex should never have to know how he got his new heart. It wasn't his fault, and he had the right to undergo his rehabilitation with his mind free from worries. 

He started when he felt Lex's slender fingers run through his hair. He opened his eyes. 

"Clark," Lex smiled. 

Caught by surprise, Clark didn't respond. For a while, he just let himself get lost into Lex's silver-blue eyes, barely breathing. 

"It seems Luthors are really tough customers, after all," Lex stated, an ironic smirk teasing the corners of his lips. "I must have taken after my father." 

"As strange as it sounds, I must say I'm happy," Clark finally managed. 

Lex closed his hand over Clark's, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles, letting silence stretch between them. Then he took in a deep, deliberate breath. 

"I got some research done," he informed Clark, in a soft voice. "I wanted to do something for the donor's family." 

Clark removed his hand from under Lex's fingers. He opened his mouth to speak, but remained silent. 

Lex slowly propped himself up, Clark automatically adjusting the pillows behind his back. Lex settled against them. 

"You lied to me," he accused gravely. "You had promised you wouldn't do it anymore." 

Clark cowered. "I... I didn't want you to worry about it." 

Lex sighed. "I know." 

Clark stared at him, sheepishly. "I'm sorry." 

Lex nodded. "I'll just say it once, Clark", he warned after a while. "It was an accident, and you can't be held responsible for it." 

"But I feel responsible", Clark said, in a low, hopeless voice. "I lost control." 

Lex put a hand on his shoulder. 

"Listen, I'm not going to feel guilty for this and..." 

"You aren't guilty." 

"Neither are you. I'm sorry you feel like this, but nobody forced him to attack that girl. And, if it hadn't been for this accident, now I'd be probably dead. So, truth be told, I'm glad things turned out this way. It isn't a fairy tale, but it's a tale, nonetheless." 

Clark gave him a quizzical look. 

"A woman had a debauched son," Lex recited. "He went off to commit a crime, but a brave knight prevented him from hurting a damsel. His heart stopped, but, before it was too late, his mother gave it to a dying prince. She saved him and got very rich, and they lived happily ever after." 

Clark stared at him, incredulous. Lex smiled. 

"What's the moral of the story?" Clark teased him. 

"Perhaps that sometimes good can come from evil. And we must accept this kind of good too." He reached for his cheek. "I want you to go on patrol again. Starting tonight." 

"I can't," Clark protested. "I..." 

"You have to get over it. At once." 

"Okay," Clark murmured, content to yield to his reasserting authority. 

He stood up and leaned down to press a kiss on his scarred lip. 

"I love you," he simply said. 

"I know," Lex replied. 

Clark felt his smile against his mouth. He closed his eyes, and a sensation of sheer happiness washed over him. And he didn't feel guilty. Because now he knew it: saving the world was useless if Lex wasn't there anyway. 


End file.
